Another Time - Another World
by Terri'smind
Summary: Earls Potter and Phantomhive have been best friends for years, and these best friends celebrate good news by getting utterly drunk. They will make a drunken decision that will effect the future of their families forever, even if it does take over a decade for the Potter and Phantomhive heirs to learn of it. Lizzie will not be happy. And what has Dumbledore done? CP/HP you'll see.
1. Chapter 1

**_AN: Okay, I will probably post another chapter sometime regardless of feedback, but all reviews are appreciated. Please tell me any grammatical errors that you spot that I missed. This is taking place in two different dimensions the Harry Potter one and the Kuroshitsuji one, the times move in each universe at different speeds determined by my will, so just saying_**.

**_Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter nor Kuroshitsuji, though I wish I did._**

**_Rating: T, I suppose._**

**_Prologue:_**

**Phantomhive Mansion (1875)**

Two rather drunken men sat drinking around the fireplace in a large office which hosted an extensive library. They were both celebrating; one for his son reaching his first birthday, for the best doctors in the country had told him and his wife the child would not, and the other for the news he had gotten yesterday that meant he would be a father in just a few short months. The men favored each other in looks despite not sharing blood, though the man with ebony black hair was married to the brunette's cousin.

The two had been best friends for years, even before Vincent had married Lawson's beautiful cousin Rachel, hence why they had meet up to celebrate their respective happy news, regardless of the fact they had not seen each other since their weddings years prior.

In fact their affectionate regard for one another and the heavy influence of alcohol addled brains is what lead to the following suggestion:

"My dear friend, why don't we, right here and now, while it is fresh upon our thoughts, bind our families together through our first born? What say you, Lawson?" Vincent Phantomhive suggested, clearly not thinking as he normally would, indicated by the heavy slurring of his words.

"I say: why didn't I think of" hic "of that? I'm sure it would give my Jasmine something to look forward to, she was so terrified at the thought of Hylas dying like those quack doctors predicted."Lawson said, fairing no better than his friend in the sobriety department.

It wasn't like if the children were both boys it would be a problem for them to be wed; but, planning your children's future matrimony should at least be done when you would remember what you had decided.

So, with Vincent Phantomhive and Lawson Potters' minds made in up in a haze of intoxication a binding wedding contract was constructed between the two. Who, amazingly, were able to actually write one up considering they were both three sheets to the wind. They made four copies all signed, sealed, and placed in a specified location that the butler of the Phantomhive house, Mr. Tanaka, came and checked every day for letters to be sent out.

And, with their task complete the two men collapsed on the couch. When waking up the next day they recollected nothing of what they had done last night in reference of the arranged marriage they had set up for their children, which Tanaka had already retrieved and sent out, one copy being locked up in Mr. Phantomhive's office desk.

Thus the two went on with their lives not at all remembering that they had made the wedding contract at all. In fact no one, but their respective lawyers and the Queen, whom they had also sent a copy to, knew anything about it. In fact, the men's deed would not be discovered until several years later when certain events had taken place.

And as fate would have it, neither man would live to discover what they had done.

**Hogwarts, Headmaster's Private Quarters (1987)**

Albus Dumbledore was frantic.

It was not an emotion that he found he enjoyed and he had soon come to the conclusion that if he never felt it again in his life he would be perfectly happy.

The reason for the great Albus Dumbledore feeling this deemed atrocious emotion? Today he had gone to check on Harry Potter for the first time in five and a half years. He had needed to make sure the Dursleys were making him submissive enough to mold into the perfect weapon against Tom when he returned. Because there was no doubt in Albus Wulfric Bryan Dumbledore's mind that Tom had delved into the deepest and darkest of arts, so it was common sense to predict that Tom had come up with a plan to return.

So, he had gone to make sure they had been treating Harry 'properly'.

They hadn't been.

When Dumbledore had arrived at Number 4 Private Drive he had discovered his worst nightmare.

The Dursleys had been out, but he knew from reports from Arabella that they never took Harry with them, so it didn't matter. He merely cast an aloraalla charm and walked through the door. The odor that hit him nearly knocked his hat off. His concern, growing every step he took and the odor got worse; hit the figurative roof when he opened the door of the cupboard under the stairs.

Dumbledore found his weapon against the darkness laying in a fetal position, the child's emaciated corpse growing maggots, the child having been dead for at least a week.

He had buried the body in an unmarked grave and returned to Hogwarts, and those were the events that lead him to pacing around his office trying to figure out what he was going to do.

"The blasted muggles weren't supposed to kill him!" he exclaimed to his bored looking familiar.

The Phoenix had been watching its frantic companion for the past two hours and it was getting old to be honest. The fiery bird went over to the bookshelf in a huff and knocked down an ancient and dusty tome from one of the stacks.

The silver bearded man almost scolded his familiar as he went to pick up the fallen book, but the words couldn't leave his mouth as he looked at the title of the book. With a renewed twinkle in his vibrant blue eyes the elderly man flipped through the frail pages with vigor.

"This is perfect Fawkes!"He announced to the phoenix before going on to mutter under his breath about necessary ingredients for the ritual he was going to perform.

If the Harry Potter of this world was dead, so be it. He could always take one from another world, it was all for the greater good after all.


	2. Chapter 2

**_AN:_****_ Thank you so much every one who commented on my story, favorited, or followed. This is honestly a plot bunny that just wouldn't leave me alone, so I do appreciate all the positive feedback. Please review, and I hope you all enjoy this little chapter._**

**_AnomalyLady_****_, thank you so very much for pointing out that error. Everyone the strangely spelled word that Dumbledore says to enter the Dursley's house is supposed to be 'alohomora'. Thanks again for that._**

**_Chapter One:_**

**Potter Manor (1881)**

Potter Manor was one of the oldest manors in England, it was also among one of the largest, though in recent years most of the Manor had been closed off. The Potters were no longer as large or as social as they had been in previous generations. The family had been reduced to a mere three members that bore the name Potter, and after complications of the Potter couple's first child birth, their first was going to be their only.

So, financially and logically it only was common sense for Earl Potter to reduce the number of servants to only ten maids, a gardener, two cooks, a coachman, stable boy, and a butler, Mr. Yamamoto, who had been working there since Earl Potter was a young man.

Anyway, today was a very special day in the Potter Manor, for today was February 14th, Young Master Hylas' seventh birthday. Which, of course, was a monumental achievement considering it had astounded the country' s top doctors, for they had said he would not live past his first, or even, to see his first.

All the servants adored their little lord, how could anyone hate a child that lit up a room every time he smiled that sweet smile of his. The maids constantly fought over who was to dress him because they loved to dress him up like a little doll, he always looked so adorable. He was a darling child who would spontaneously bring his mother a bundle of flowers from the garden all wrapped together in a pretty ribbon.

Most people would think a child that had been born with a silver spoon in his mouth would be a spoilt brat, especially with how his parents pampered him because of his weak constitution, but no. Hylas Jibril Potter may have been lucky enough to be born in to a sheltered environment, but the child was far from spoilt. Even at his young age Lawson Potter had made sure his son had known how hard money was to earn, even though the child was set for life with the family's careful investments over the years and generations.

And as everyone adored little Hylas, today was a very important day. Since before the dawn's break all the servants had been busy trying to get the preparations for the big celebration that night; and, after Earl and Lady Potter had awoken, at 8:00 am on the dot, and partook in breakfast they also became caught up in the chaos of party planning.

It wasn't to be a big party or anything of that nature, just the normal household occupants with no guests –all of Earl Potter's family lived too far off to call in for a mere day and Lady Potter was the last of her family-, but, there were presents to wrap, decorations to be strung, and a feast of Hylas' favorite foods to be prepared.

So with all the commotion going on in the Manor no one thought much of not seeing little lord Hylas 'til evening. Everyone assumed that he had gone out to play in the gardens after the Head Maid, Mrs. Reece, had dressed him for the day.

When they checked the gardens they thought nothing of him not being there and merely went off in search of him elsewhere.

When Hylas couldn't be found on the first floor of the Manor a small amount of trepidation began to set in.

When the little lord couldn't be found in the gardens, kitchens, library, first, second, third, or fourth floors, or anywhere in or around the Manor the maids began to shriek and wail; Lady Potter had long since fainted.

Two years later the police that had been called in deemed continuing the search for Hylas Jibril Potter was a lost cause. And two years following that and prior to the fire and subsequent murder of the Phantomhive family, excepting Ciel Phantomhive, Lady Jasmine Potter went mad with grief and slit her and her husband's throat one night.

As per Earl Lawson Potter's will the servants continued on in the Manor, keeping it in working order for the next master of the Manor to arrive. Many held on to a hope that it would be little lord Hylas but with each passing day that shimmer of hope dimmed more and more.

**Hogwarts (1987 a few days after Dumbledore discovered Harry Potter's Death)**

Dumbledore stared in amazement at the child who had appeared just moments ago from the rune circle he had tirelessly worked on for the past few days. Of course the fact that this particular ritual had been outlawed for centuries due to its dark nature didn't even faze the man. After all, he was the head of the Light, and he was only performing the dark ritual for the greater good of the wizarding world.

He obviously was the type of man who thought himself privileged and above the law and, even, the standards he held those around him to.

The boy the ritual had brought from some other world, he really didn't care where as long as the boy served his purpose, didn't look exactly like Harry Potter. But really, what did he know? He had last seen the child as a corpse.

This child, if the man had to make comparisons, favored Lilly Potter more so than James. He had pale, nearly alabaster, flawless skin and deep red hair that was boarder line black, that was pulled back into a neat top-lock with the rest flowing like silk to his shoulder blades. Dumbledore obviously couldn't tell with the boy's eyes closed what color they were, but he could see that the child possessed almond shaped eyes, like Lilly had, which would lend even more credibility that this was indeed her son. Truly, had Dumbledore not known that this child had no relation to either Potter he would have thought it was their child.

How fortunate. Now he wouldn't have to waste any energy on putting the child under a permanent glamour. One less piece of dark magic he would have to perform today.

Dumbledore pointed his wand at the unconscious child lying in the center of the rune he had drawn with the blood of a unicorn (that had died a natural death), and began to chant in a language that even he was unfamiliar with it was so ancient. A red beam of light erupted from the end of his wand and surrounded the boy's wrist causing him to moan in pain. The light only lasted for a few moments, and upon disappearing a thin, silver bracelet that was completely covered in small delicate symbols was all that remained.

Due to the pain of the spell the child had been awoken and was staring at Dumbledore with confused and frightened, vibrantly astonishingly beautiful emerald eyes. Eyes that made Lilly Potter's look weak and ugly in comparison. Eyes that seemed to see straight to the manipulative old man's soul. Eyes that forced the old man turn away so that he could collect himself.

A sweetly innocent voice that was tinged with fright made the Headmaster turn to face the child he had practically kidnapped (really there was no 'practically' about it).

"Umm, Sir, where am I? And who might you be?"the boy spoke with an upper crust, aristocratic accent that just screamed refinement and wealth. Dumbledore frowned. That wasn't good, hopefully the boy would learn to stop speaking like that after enough time with the Dursley's.

The old man chuckled earning him a wary glance from those green eyes, and didn't reply to the question. Instead he pointed his wand once again at the child and chanted:

"_Castri antiqui deos et spiritus justo munus tumm puero hoc ita se habet potentiam se defendendi…"_

He watched with fascinated eyes as the child's back arched sharply and a blood-curling wail of pain tore from the boy's throat. Then tremors began to rack the small body as beams of a golden plasma looking substance that started seeping from the cracks and crannies of the walls and floors converged, growing ever larger and larger, then entering the boy through his mouth. The substance made the green eyed child choke and gag as it prevented him from screaming like his body urged him to do. Blood poured from his mouth, nose, and eyes.

**territerriterri**

Hylas was quite positive he was going to die from whatever the creepy man had done to him. He had never felt such intense pain in his young life, and he could only imagine this was what it felt like to be torn apart from the inside. For, inside him was a strange energy that was foreign to his system and he could tell his body was fiercely rejecting it. Yet, Hylas was well aware it was fighting a losing battle.

Ever since his birth, which had been riddled with complication after complication, he had been predicted to die, for his body was much frailer than it ought to be. Never before had he been certain he was going to die, but he couldn't see how he was going to survive this pain, this terrible pain that the silver-bearded man had cruelly and unnecessarily inflected upon him.

His emerald eyes flickered closed for what he thought would be the last time, all the while glaring at the man who had done this too him, a man he had never meet before.

This was the first time in his life that the sweet young boy had ever hated anyone in his life.

It would not be the last.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Two:**

**Number 4 Privet Drive, Surrey, England (1991)**

Mr. and Mrs. Dursley were perfectly normal, thank you very much, or so they had disillusioned themselves into believing. Because to Hylas, who now had to go by 'Freak', 'Boy', or 'Harry Potter' thanks to the bracelet on his wrist, anyone who's nephew could be replaced by an entirely different person and they couldn't even tell the difference, could in no way be classified as normal.

But Hylas had no room to talk about normalcy. He wasn't normal at all.

He was stuck in a dimension not his own with a 'family' and 'relatives' that treated him like a slave and couldn't even tell he wasn't the child that they had housed for the five and a half years before Hylas had came.

Most children didn't have charmed bracelets that prevented him from telling anyone who he really was, or wasn't in some cases. At first he couldn't figure out why he was unable to say his real name, or could only choke when he tried to deny he was 'Harry Potter'; but, he had finally connected the tightening of the wrist ornament to the inability to speak the truth about himself.

Since that discovery he had tried everything he could think of to remove the blasted thing to no avail. The only thing he hadn't tried was outright attempting to amputate his hand, and that was only because he was not yet that desperate. And besides, he had logically reasoned with himself, where would he go? He didn't know how to return to his home and with the way the Dursley's treated someone who was supposed to be their flesh and blood, there was no way they would be more hospitable to a complete and utter stranger with no relation to them.

Normal children his age didn't have lightening shaped scars on their foreheads that they could not recall receiving. Hylas knew for a fact that he had not had that scar before he had arrived in this world. He had discovered its appearance soon after he had awoken alone, cold, hungry, and clothed in filthy rags ten times the proper size. And he had awoken in a cupboard under the stairs of all places.

After he fell unconscious while in the presentence of that devil of a man with the icy, blue eyes, he concluded that the man had to have carved the repulsive shape in his forehead. Which added another grievance he had against that despicable man.

And most people wouldn't be pulled unwillingly to a completely other _dimension _by old, mad, peculiarly dressed men. It just wasn't done. Unless, of course, your name was Hylas Jibril Potter.

So no, he wasn't your average, run-of-the-mill child.

Disregarding the Dursley's, Hylas had honestly been astounded at the sheer vulgarity, rudeness, and incompetence of this world. Both children and adults he had encountered here had nearly ruined his faith in there being any goodness or intelligence in the human race.

Every single child he had had the misfortune to be around here were either bullies, dreadfully uneducated despite having the advantage of free public education, or so cowardly they were deemed utterly and irrevocably useless by his standards. They were spoilt and most, especially in regards to Dudley Dursley, so obese that he cringed to view upon it. It made him so mad that these children, so rottenly spoiled though not even with the excuse of nobility in their veins, complained endlessly and were always in want of more, when he could clearly remember the starved eyes and emaciated faces of the poor beggars he had encountered in the repugnant gutters of his world's London.

The adults had faired his judgment only slightly better. They, like the Dursley's had been unable to differentiate between him and the late Harry Potter. In fact the only things any of his teachers had ever commented on was that his handwriting had improved vastly and his grades exponentially.

Inhabitants of Privet Drive seemed incapable of observing and inferring what they witnessed with their own two eyes.

_Flashback:_

_It had been a particularly frigid day only a few months after he had been unceremoniously kidnapped then dropped into this world of strange oddities and insufferable relatives of 'Harry Potter'. And he had been out 'tending the garden' since the post had arrived that morning. A thing he found indefinitely stupid considering it was mid-December and any remnants of the plants he had learned to tenderly care for in the prior summer months were quite dead, and not to mention buried under at least a foot of snow._

_Surprisingly enough, he hadn't been banished from the house on the coldest day of the year with nothing on other that a pair of thin, thread-bare shorts and equally worn shirt for burning breakfast. He wore no shoes, for, he hadn't the time to put them on before he had been plucked up by the back of his collar and literally thrown out the door, thankfully landing in the snow and not on the paved walk-way._

_No, this time, he had not ruined the whale clan's breakfast; instead it was the post's arrival that had provoked his abrupt eviction from the residence. It had brought with it the first semester's report cards for both Dudley and himself._

_For some reason Hylas himself could not fathom it came as an unpleasant and shocking discovery to the Dursley's when it came out that Dudley had managed to fail every subject and was tied for last place on the grade rankings. Even more alarming to the Dursley's was when their 'nephew's' report card was read, and thus, they discovered that he was ranked number one, which to them was unacceptable._

_Which concluded why Hylas was outside, quite possibly catching hypothermia for all he knew, in ill clothing. As he huddled against himself, rubbing his near numb arms, he unconsciously licked his lips, wincing as the saliva met with the busted part of his lower lip. The blood was tangy and, disturbingly, he knew it was the only thing that he was going to have a taste of for the day, or, even, the rest of the week for out-performing precious Diddy-dinky-kins, or whatever rubbish Petunia had taken to calling Dudley now._

_Hylas had known perfectly well that showing that he was smarter than Dudley wouldn't go over well with his 'relatives', but even with that knowledge and being well aware that he would be beaten and punished for it he still studied in the library at recess and after school, lying and saying that he had detention. For him it was a pride thing; the curriculum of this world he had see so far was far below his own standards and the thought of doing poorly with such dismal standards was repulsive. No matter the consequences he would be condemned before he performed subpar on anything, which was why he swallowed the gut wrenching feeling of dread that coiled inside every time he took an exam._

_Anyway he had been contemplating his situation when the quiet rumble of a car sounded as it made its way down Privet Drive and subsequently into the drive of Number 2 Privet Drive, which was right next door. Green eyes watched absently as the man, a Mr. Charles Jones who was a short, portly fellow who had the unfortunate tendency to trim his graying mustache in the style a stereotypical pedophile would, emerged from the car. _

_The man slammed the door with unnecessary force as the sound of it was unusually loud, and he was just about to head to his house when his head jerked quite abruptly in Hylas' direction. A sneer appeared on his face, giving an impression of a confused bulldog. A look that would have made Hylas giggle at its silliness had he not heard the man mutter –rather loudly- 'Disgusting child, insane too, apparently. His mother must have drunk, or been high on something when she was carrying him. No child of any decent breeding would have that little common sense.'_

_Now Hylas had always thought himself to possess a fair temperament, and he had been better behaved and more calm than most people would have been considering the circumstances he had been unwillingly dumped into. And he felt he had taken the situation as well as was humanly possible, what with being seized and spirited off to another world, away from his family and all the people and things familiar to him being stripped from him._

_And to have an insignificant nobody, most likely without carrying a single speck of noteworthy blood in his veins to commend him, say something to the effect of him having no proper heritage along with insulting his mother in the very same breath, was beyond irksome to him._

_In fact, it bloody infuriated him._

_While he was mentally asking his mother for forgiveness for his deplorably crass language, even within the confines of his mind, he didn't notice the air rupture from all four off Mr. Charles Jones's tires and equally failed to notice the front window have ice spreading rapidly across it eventually shattering the glass._

That incident had resulted in Hylas' acute distaste for this world's adult population.

**An: I apologize for any error I am currently not even suppose to be on the computer so...yeah. Anyway thanks all of those who have reviewed, faved, etc. I haven't fully come up with how this is going to go so I don't know how frequently it will be updated due to the fact I am mostly just writing whatever comes to me. If you have ideas tell me if you want and I'll consider if they fit with what I do have planned.**

**Thanks all for your interest in my little story, I really do appreciate it.**


	4. Chapter 4

_**AN: Hello all, just a little heads up : the chapter after this one might take awhile because my brain ( and my pencil apparently) skipped ahead and I'm currently writing a scene that I haven't even figured out how its going to happen yet. Oh well. Any who, I would like to hear ya'll's opinions on what you think of Hylas's character so far, but of course any reviews at all are appreciate. Hope ya'll enjoy this little chapter.**_

_**Paxloria:**__** Thank you for your suggestion (to be honest I really didn't consider loop-holes like that when I came up with the idea) and I am considering whether or not I can put it in the story line. I just wanted to thank you for your consideration and input.**_

_**Thank you all who read, reviewed, faved, or followed.**_

**Chapter Three:**

A fair mid-summer's morning the post arrived per normal at Number 4 Privet Drive, Surrey, England. Hylas of course had been 'nominated' to fetch it after cooking whale number one and whale number two's breakfast as the anorexic whale supervised.

Hylas, before becoming, in a sense, Harry Potter, had never cooked or graced a kitchen with his presence before in his life. Why would he have? Culinary skills had not been a part of his curriculum, it was not pertinent for him to know how to cook, of all things, to succeed his father as Earl Potter, and, besides, they had had hired servants to perform the task. His mother had certainly not known her way about a kitchen, more likely than not, she wouldn't have even known where to begin.

So, needless to say, when Petunia Dursley had first expected him to turn out three course breakfasts, four course lunches, and five course dinners when he had first arrived, the woman had, as anyone could predict, been less than impressed with the results.

She had at first been under the impression that her 'nephew' was purposely ruining the food her good, hardworking, non-freakish husband had worked hard for. To her it was unnatural and incomprehensible, for a boy who had been able to complete such a task one day, and had been doing so for a number of years, to suddenly become completely illiterate regarding anything cookery wise.

Vernon punished Hylas for 'insubordination' many times over those early weeks.

It took her a month of eating out due to Hylas's production of uneatable slop, that she reached the conclusion that the boy was seriously unable to make anything victuals wise due to insufficient knowledge.

Petunia questioned the boy thoroughly after he shattered her, thankfully, second best tea pot. She discovered that not only did he not know that hot water was suppose to be boiled in a kettle, not the tea pot, he was under the misconception that tea came prepared with sugar, milk, and all the fixings. Did you really have to add that all yourself?

After that incident Hylas found himself quite well versed in the knowledge of cookery, that and the fact he had to wash all the dishes by hand, gave him a firm appreciation for the servants he had had back home.

Anyway the day the letter arrived, as had become a compulsion over the course of four years; Hylas quickly read though the addresses labeled on the envelopes. Per the norm they were generally bills but one in particular caught his attention almost at once. It was made out of a heavy parchment paper that he had not seen in common use in this world and its strange coat of arms made it stand out from the rest.

He narrowed his eyes at the suspiciously detailed address on the peculiar letter, but it was swiftly tucked within the folds of his baggy trousers. Trousers, might he add, that Dudley had outgrown at the age of four and had fit Hylas more snuggly when he had first arrived at age seven than they did now that he was eleven.

Sooner than he would have liked but almost too long in the Dursley's crackbrained minds he returned to the kitchen, handing the post over to Vernon, who responded with a grunt. Petunia handed him three crackers and a bite of moldy cheese, along with a list of that day's chores, and instructions to clean up the kitchen.

He proceeded to forget about the queer letter as his brain recited information from the medical texts he had studied during the school year as he preformed the menial tasks that he had to complete to even have the possibility of receiving dinner. Though irksome he knew he would not be given any lunch even though it was a given that he would cook it.

Hylas was many things but he wasn't delusional and he tried to refrain from lying to himself.

Ever since he had comprehended his physical inequities regarding his health, a thing which had vastly been ignored since his arrival here, he had always desired, ruefully, to become a doctor. It was a profession he greatly admired and respected, and he had read medical texts since he had developed the ability to read.

But, as previously stated, he was not a liar, and as he was firm in the aspiration to return to his world, he knew as he always had known, he would not be able to become a doctor. Once he returned, he refused to believe there was an 'if' in that sentiment, for it would be only a matter of 'when' not 'if', he would continue his studies to succeed his father , wed, produce an heir, and then take over his father's job of running the family's various business ventures, companies, and estates. He would not bare the honor of completing his dream of becoming a doctor, it just was not an option available to him.

Nevertheless, that knowledge did nothing to prevent him from becoming quite proficient in the subject and mentally recording all the medical and scientific biological advances that this world had developed.

In this way he was able to study and complete his chores in a mechanical process. When he went in that night he cooked a lavish dinner. While the Dursley's were devouring the food he tried to eat slowly, as to make his overly browned roll and small slice of ham last as long as possible. He was then ordered to his cupboard, where he pulled out the letter that he hadn't the time to consider since morning.

…He wasn't quite sure what to think even after reading the preposterous letter multiple times.

But then again the letter did explain some things. This magic could be what the man with the long silver beard used to drag him from his home world. Hylas glanced down at the innocent looking sliver band adorning his right wrist. Yes, magic did explain a lot, if, it truly existed.

And anyway how was one to respond by owl? Go up to some random owl in the woods at night and ask 'Oh, Mr. Owl, will you please deliver this letter to some mad person at this ridiculously named school that sounds so faux it's not even funny'? Hylas had never seen anyone with a pet owl in his world and the way the Dursley's acted about some things, especially fantasy, made him believe that this certainly wasn't normal.

He shrugged a habit he had picked up over time from this world which would probably ruin his posture, and tossed the letter aside. He would ask Petunia in the morning –after Vernon had left for work and Dudley off with his friends- she would either laugh in his face for being gullible or screech in that irritatingly high-pitched voice of hers that magic didn't exist and that he was going to be punished severely once Vernon returned.

Or, quite possibly do both.

Hylas rolled his eyes at the thought of the Dursleys, twisting on his narrow cot trying –most certainly not succeeding- to get comfortable. Even with the beatings he failed to see the Dursleys as a real threat, to him they were merely flies that were constantly irritating him by buzzing in his ear and occasionally taking a bit. Pests and nothing more.

**Territerriterriterriterri**

Hylas watched with a glimmer of amusement as Petunia Dursley went from a ghostly pale to a shade of red that was reminiscent of a tomato not yet ready to be picked.

He had just walked into the kitchen after the male Dursleys had left and handed her the letter. He had expected scoffing or even laughing. What he had not expected was for Petunia to look as if someone had just pushed Dudley off a cliff, she looked utterly terrified and moments away from emptying her stomach of its breakfast.

She collapsed in a chair and Hylas sat down across from her. She knew something, obviously, and he planned on finding out.

**Territerriterriterri**

"They'll just send you back you know, when summer holiday starts again, sooner if they realize you're not here."

Hylas turned towards her, his face in the expressionless form he had rarely been out of for years. There was no light in his eyes, but if one looked very closely they could see a smoldering of – something, there, otherwise they were cold but beautiful, so, so beautiful emeralds cut in a stunning facet. Most of this near in-human expression was concealed by long bangs that hung straight down, longer on the sides where it framed his flawless heart-shaped face, the cut jagged due to him doing it himself without even a mirror. It somehow still managed to come out fashionably.

"Madame," he said in a rather frigid tone that was firm. "You have given me the accurate coordinates for this… 'Leaky Cauldron' place –correct?" at her nod he continued. "You also confirm that the one time you met my … father, he was in possession of a large ring upon his hand with what appeared to be some fashion of a family crest." Another nod met his inquiry.

"Then Madame, if all goes well and you play your part and I mine then no one will have any reason to inquire as to if this is my place of residence."

"Besides," he said as he elegantly flipped his ratty duffle bag over his shoulder. It contained a few pieces of food, the letter from 'Hogwarts', and the few garments that weren't completely in tatters. In his shoe he had stashed enough pounds to get him to London and hopefully a place to stay for the night, he had swiped it from the Dursleys hiding place in one of the drawers when Petunia wasn't looking. "Whoever left me in your care was an inept moron. You have no legal documentation that I was actually left in your care, no birth certificate, no medical records – the only thing that could possible make you responsible for me is our 'blood'," the words were twisting in his mouth and making it taste sour "connection and the fact you have taken care of me for some number of years. Two thing, might I add, that will not hold up in a court of law to land you with any responsibility."

Petunia's brow was furrowed in thought, and the look made her appear silly because it was a look rarely seen – a look of thought.

"In a normal court," she finally said derisively. "That lot my sister went off with always thought themselves entitled, better than us normal people. They never followed any normal law."

Hylas quirked an eyebrow, a movement hidden by his bangs. "Well, even these people must have some procedure for the management and placement of orphaned children, any relatively civilized society does." It was noted that Petunia's lip twitched slightly upwards as he spoke the words 'relatively civilized'.

"I find it quite obvious that whoever placed me here entirely disregarded proper government, any government really, procedure." Really, kidnapping children and transporting them across worlds just had to be illegal. Petunia nodded. "As that has been settled, farewell Mrs. Dursley." Hylas said without looking back at her as he turned the door knob.

Mrs. Dursley did not reply and Hylas did not even bother to glance over his shoulder to see if she was still there. It didn't matter; neither of them held any love for the other and both were hoping that things would work out as planned so that they might never again have to suffer each other's presence.

Privet Drive was eerily silent as he made his way down the street. There were no children up this early out playing nor was it late enough for the adults to be busy working in their lawns, or porch sitting drinking their morning cuppas. The sky hadn't yet even acquired the faintest of pink or orange tinge that told the fore coming of the sun.

Hylas trudged forward with his head held high. He didn't spare a backwards glance.


End file.
